Written in Blood
by StrawberryCerealKiller
Summary: Desmond Miles was not one to freak out. He didn't do freaking out. But suddenly appearing in what looked to be Rome in the renaissance from 2012 Monteriggioni was a perfectly acceptable reason to be freaking out, thank you very much. So you would excuse him for having the urge to face plant a wall and scream like a little girl.
1. Chapter 1: Freak Out? Why Not?

**Written in Blood**

**Chapter 1: Freak out?Why not?**

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><p><strong>Desmond's POV:<strong>

Desmond Miles was not one to freak out. He didn't do freaking out. Nine years on the run from the assassins kinda do that to you. But suddenly appearing in what looked to be Rome in the renaissance from modern day Monteriggioni was a perfectly acceptable reason to be freaking out, thank you very much. So you would excuse him for having the urge to repeatedly face plant a nearby wall and scream like a little girl. But the stares that he realized he was garnering from passing civilians reminded him that now was _not_ the time to freak out. Now was time to find a safe place _to_ freak out in. The middle of a crowded street was definitely not one such place. He needed to get somewhere safe and wait for Lucy and the others to get him out of...whatever the fuck he was in right now. He heard Rebecca yelling. Something about a glitch and overlapping memories while he was in the animus before blinding gold light had completely consumed his vision. He managed to somehow find himself, not Ezio, here in Renaissance Rome. At least that partially explained why he was here. A glitch. So he just needed to stay alive couple of centuries in the past and wait for Rebecca to solve it so he could return to his own time. Simple. At least, that's what he hoped it'd be... That decided, the young animus subject moved to blend in with the crowds, heading in the direction of the nearest viewpoint he remembered. So preoccupied with sorting his thoughts the young time traveller was, that he failed to realize that he had caught the attention of a certain white hooded individual up on the rooftops.

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><p><strong> Ezio's POV:<strong>

Hazel hues tracked the progress of the strangely garbed individual, moving fluidly through the crowded streets below. This man...this...queer replica of him had somehow managed to appear ,quite literally, out of thin air, in a flash of familiar gold light that sent shivers down his spine. It was an unnatural gold. The same eerie light the poured forth from the Apple of Eden, shining with such inhuman intensity and power that the mere thought of it made him feel a sense of uneasiness flow through his veins. Moving silently along the tiled roofs of Roma's immaculate architecture, Ezio scrutinized the stranger. The robes that garbed the man's lithe form were...intriguing. White, and made of what looked to be strong, expensive cloth. Thick with a highly complex stitching. Neat and smooth. In fact, it didn't even seem to be the product of human hands. The garment had a simple design, the plain white embroidery of an eagle on the back and a simple hood, though it seemed to be there for only aesthetic reasons since it was definitely too small to shadow a face. One could easily tell that the man was well to do to even be able to afford clothes of such high quality. Yet, this bizarre character, this foreign figure practically reeked of familiarity. The way he moved. The way he carried himself. It was neither with the proud strut of a Templar, nor the slinking strides of a thief. He moved...like an assassin. And a good one at that. Ezio's brows furrowed in confusion. He didn't recognize the man from anywhere or heard of anyone of his description before. After all, who wouldn't notice someone so distinct and intriguing, not only in features but his garb as well? Well, va bene, maybe the Borgia guards around the city, considering how effortlessly the man had just slipped past them. Either way, Ezio was sure the man had something to do with the Apple of Eden, considering his unorthodox way of transport, and thus could be a valuable asset or source of information. And Ezio was going to find out more about it. After all, what a master assassin wants, a master assassin gets. That was the last thing the Florentine thought of as he sailed across a gap onto another rooftop with practiced ease, focused fully on tailing his target, a small smirk plastered on his face.

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><p><strong>Desmond's POV:<strong>

Desmond had always an acute awareness of when he was being watched. It had always been an inbuilt thing since he was a little squirt living on the farm. It was a useful little talent that he had used countless times before. Be it to catch the eye of a cute girl that had been staring the whole evening at Bad Weather, the bar he worked at, or to evade the assassins that had been tracking him since he ran away from the farm when he was sixteen._ 'Spidey senses'_ it was dubbed by his brother back when they were still very young. It was this sixth sense, well seventh if you count eagle vision that he had acquired after his time as Altair in the animus, that made his little stay at Hotel Abstergo rather uncomfortable because he was constantly being watched all the time. Yes, even in the damned shower (the fucking perverts). So had the feeling never really left throughout his time there.

Twenty five years of his life, this little niggling at the back of his head had yet to fail him. However it did not comfort him that it had decided to make an appearance now of all times. Because it meant only one thing: he had been spotted. Warily, he glanced around his surroundings, eyeing the morning crowd that bustled around him in the busy piazza. No one seemed to be taking note of him, only the occasional curious glance at his appearance, so he shifted his gaze on to the rooftops. Desmond felt the blood leave his face. Standing at the edge on the roof of a nearby shop in all his assassin glory staring intently down with a hawk like gaze, was none other than his ancestor Ezio Auditore da Firenze. Well wasn't this gonna be such a wonderful, heartwarming reunion across centuries. Yeah right, who was he kidding? He was_ fucked_!

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**For those that have read this story before, as you can see, I have given it a bit of a revamp. I read through it recently and I wasn't satisfied with what I wrote. I hope you like the new improvements.**

** Please review or PM me if you have any suggestions or to tell what to think. Your opinion really matters a lot to me and I truly want to improve. :) I'd be changing a couple of things in the later chapters as well and am also simultaneously writing the new chapter.**

**And to all the readers old and new, hope you enjoy my little fic as much as i enjoy writing it. **

**REVIEW! :D**


	2. Chapter 2: Killer Instinct?

**Written in Blood**

** Chapter 2:** **The Horrible Alias**

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><p><strong>Desmond's POV:<strong>

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all! He did _NOT_ sign up for this shit! Desmond's vocabulary seemed to have been reduced to nothing more than "Damn it" in his panic it seemed, as it happened to be the only recurring word in his head as he tore down the streets of Rome taking abrupt turns in a valiant but vain attempt to lose his pursuer. He ignored the shouts of indignation as he sped past the throngs of civilians bowling over a well dressed nobleman with a heavy crate. He winced at the sound of broken pottery. That had better not be an important piece of art. Shawn would castrate him if he managed destroyed a piece of history. Chased by your ancestor (_who was conveniently a master assassin_) be damned. Desmond took a sharp turn down another street and into a marketplace. Stupid stupid stupid. The American mentally berated himself. He was in _ROME_ for god sakes. Of _course_ Ezio would be here. Hell, since fate was such a bitch, Ezio would've probably even seen him arrive! Great, how was he gonna explain it to a his supposedly dead-for-centuries ancestor that he was from the future? This just sounded like something out of those cliche scifi flicks he used to watch on a Sunday nights! What the hell was he gonna say?!

_ Hello, I am Desmond. Your descendant from the future. And no, I don't know how the hell I got here but I just want to get the hell out. Nice meeting you gramps!_

Nope.

_Hi, I am Desmond your descendant from the future that has been rifling through your memories like some creepy as stalker, privacy is overrated anyway. Caterina Sforza has some awesome boobs by the way. Nice catch. Just saying..._

Definitely not.

Okay, this was not helping. Maybe Shawn was right, he was dumb._ Shawn_...How would Shawn explain something complex to someone...

_"Desmond you complete and utter Neanderthal. Leave me the hell alone you bloody wanker! I have important work to do, unlike some people."_

Yeap. Sounds like something that asshole would say. Not much help though. The American found himself chuckling mirthlessly as he ran thinking about the sarcastic prat of a friend he worked with back in the future. God, he missed the future so much he was even missing that prick! Okay, this isn't gonna work, Desmond concluded as he stopped running. He couldn't outrun Ezio. He was sure of it. Keep up the chase, maybe. Outrun? No. Ezio was a master assassin! With the actual real life experience of gallivanting across Rome all day too! How the hell was he gonna beat that? The now rather obvious choice was to face his ancestor. Come to think of it, what in the world was he doing wearing himself out playing Tom and Jerry in Rome with Ezio when good story was probably all that was needed to get Ezio to leave him alone. Not here though, he thought as he growled irritably at a noisy bard nearby. Swiftly, scrabbled up a wall just a gaggle of beggars came running towards him, hands gripping the ledge and pulling himself upwards and onto the rooftop swiftly. He moved to lean heavily against the wooden structure of a rooftop garden.

Time to wait for 'Tom'.

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><p><strong>Ezio's POV:<strong>

Ezio was surprised when the stranger spotted him. He was even more shocked to find that he had to actually work to keep up with the stranger. But he was downright confused when his "prey" had suddenly stopped short in a marketplace and made his way effortlessly up to the wall to leaning casually against a rooftop garden, waiting for him. A blatant request to stop their little chase and get to the point. The man was really good. Too good. He would make for a powerful ally or a potentially dangerous enemy. The question was, which?

" Saluti stranger. My name is Ezio Auditore da Firenze. My apologies for chasing you but I wanted to know who you were." He greeted formally as he approached. The stranger looked up, brilliant blue eyes twinkling in some strange twisted form of amusement.

"Ehi."

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><p><strong> Desmond's POV:<strong>

This is it. Don't fuck this up Des. "Hey." He greeted back in Italian. Thank god he paid attention in the animus and was this able to grasp some the language. The bleeding effect helped too though, but lets ignore that little fact. This was too surreal, the Desmond thought to himself in amusement as he glanced up at his ancestor, so much like him, yet not. Well, for one, Ezio was taller._ Lucky bastard_.

" Just a nomad from the faraway lands across the oceans." Far indeed. So far it was in the freaking future!

" Is that so? You are rather talented. It's been a while since someone has been able to give me a good chase. What is your name, stranger?" The Italian probed, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer supplied.

Desmond froze. Damn. He figured the whole back story and he forgot to think of a fucking _name_ for his alias.

"Er...D-Desimonde..."

Geez, nice name Desmond. You changed so many names on the run and you COULDN'T have used one of them. Hell, even the 'Mark Antony' you used to use as a bartender was a better name than this shit."But you can call me Desi" (At least that's fractionally better...) Desmond continued in a desperate attempt to save the situation. Ezio raised a disbelieving brow and opened his mouth to say something. However he was interrupted when an arrow shaft lodged itself in the wood rooftop garden, inches from Desmond's head. " You there! What are you doing up here! Get down from there!" 'Well this just keeps getting better and better doesn't it? Throw in a few more guards why don't you?' Desmond groaned inwardly. " You there! Get down from there!" "Hey, it's the assassino! Two of them! Get them!" He didn't mean it literally damn it! Snarling at the whole absurdity of it all, Desmond launched himself at the nearest guard embedding his hidden blade in his throat. He made quick work of the rest and soon, they all lay unmoving at his feet. Closing the eyes of the now dead guards, Desmond wiped away the blood and gunk on his hidden blade on the tunic of one of the guards, sighing. Great, someone in the future probably just stopped existing. Hell, thinking of time made his was hurt. Would the world end because he stepped on a bug here or something? Or maybe he watched way too much Sci-Fi movies for his own good. _Well, too late for that._ He thought morbidly as he eyed the four bodies on the roof.

"Impressive display amico mio." A baritone voice interrupted his thoughts. Fuck. Desmond cursed under his breath. Smart, very smart. A simply marvelous way of diverting Ezio's suspicions you bloody imbecile. Genius actually. Would you like a prize for that? how does 'Order of Idiot, First Class' sound? Since when did his conscience start channeling Shawn damn it!

"You have skill, Desi. I'm starting a brotherhood in Roma, an _Assassin_ brotherhood," Desmond didn't like the way Ezio was staring at his hidden blade when he said that."There is a conspiracy that is occurring here in Italy. Roma, being the center of it. The Borgia aim to control everyone, take away their freedom of choice and precede over all. The Brotherhood here aims to arm those unarmed by the Borgia, to give strength to those who have none. To fight for the people's right to choose. The time to liberate Roma from the hands of the Borgia is drawing near. Would you, Desimonde, like to join me, Ezio Auditore, in the liberation of Roma?" Desmond paused. Well, this changes some things...Ezio was offering the protection and safety of the assassin brotherhood. A familiar ground to stay hidden till he was rescued by Lucy and the others. It seemed a rather tempting option. After all, what better place to stay alive than to seek safety within the assassin brotherhood?

"I accept. My-_er_-blade is yours to command." He accepted formally kneeling down a tad awkwardly like he remembered the other recruits had done. He smirked when he caught sight of Ezio's bewildered face though. The Florentine clearly did not expect him to be so easily convinced.

"Va bene. Welcome to the Assassin Brotherhood then Desi." Ezio said, quickly gaining back his composure. Gesturing for Desmond to stand.

"Heh, thanks." Desmond replied. At least something was going right, he thought as Ezio placed a hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture. Well, as right as this could be...

" I do, have one question though brother. Why did you run?"

Desmond groaned inwardly for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Why did he jinx himself by thinking that again? Why? Fate, thou art a cruel bitch, you know that?_ Damn it all!_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

**What do you think? Review or PM your thoughts yet? Your opinion matter to me! Go on, shoo shoo! Press the review or PM button! Stay awesome y'all! :)**


	3. Chapter 3: Me? A Novice?

******Author's Note:**** **Yay! Third chappie! I hope i got most of the facts right. So yeah, hope y'all like it!

**AC- Assassino**  
><strong>Chapter 3: Me? A Novice?<strong>  
><strong><br>Desmond's POV:**  
>Desmond's mind struggled to come up with a suitable reason for why he ran. In the end, he just stuck to the first one he thought of.<br>" I wanted to see if the great Ezio Auditore could live up to the rumours I have heard. That's all. Coming to join your brotherhood was the main reason I came to Roma anyway."  
>Desmond seriously hoped that Ezio would be happy with that reason. Fortunately it did the trick.<br>"Is that so? Well come then brother, I'll bring you to Machiavelli. He shall arrange your induction into our order."  
>Ezio beckoned with a friendly smile. Desmond couldn't help but smile back.<p>

After meeting with Machiavelli, one of the older novices led Desmond to change into more suitable clothing. Namely the novice greys.  
>"Oh right. How could I forget? I have to become a novice first." Desmond thought bitterly to himself. As if his years as a novice on the farm wasn't enough. What made this sting even more was the fact that he had the skills of two of the greatest assassins of all time and yet here he was, stuck being an incompetent novice. Desmond paused before chuckling inwardly to himself. Back when still in Abstergo or even at the warehouse he would never had dared to say that. But now…<p>

_**-Flashback-**_  
><em>Desmond lunged at the straw dummy attacking it with the fury of an enraged beast. He couldn't sleep for the past few weeks. Not with the nightmares that were plaguing him constantly. He soon found out that practicing with dummies before he slept was a good method to prevent nightmares since he was always too tired to even dream. Hence night practices in the small field behind the Auditore villa in Monteriggioni had become a habit. Slowly, Desmond's stamina had improved and he had the strength to back up those moves he had learned from his ancestors. Soon Desmond had made the moves his own by stylizing them to his own style of fighting. He worked so hard just to achieve that one goal. To fulfil that one vow...<br>__**-End Flashback-**_

__  
>" Here we are." the older novice stated, rousing Desmond from his musings.<br>The older novice had led him to a room to change." Tell me when you are done." the novice said kindly before closing the door. Reaching to pull off his hoodie, Desmond's hand met with rough canvas. That's right! His courier bag!

Putting down his bag he searched through its contents. A torchlight, his notebook and pen ( Lucy forced him to write journal entries in it. He is still clueless as to why even until now.), his wristwatch (which was strangely still running), his earpiece and lastly, a gun. Yes a gun. The most important thing in the whole damn bag. He put it in the secret compartment of his bag. He had a feeling he would need it next time.

"You done novice?" the older novice asked through the door.  
>"Almost!" Desmond responded while shoving his clothes into his bag before hastily getting dressed.<p>

Ezio must have been busy recruiting new novices since Desmond was not the only one at the induction. A total of about 15 other novices were in the main hall by the time he got there.

For the next hour or so, Machiavelli briefed them about the order. Its purpose, the Creed, its tenants and many other things that Desmond had heard many times before either through both of his ancestors memories or from his own parents. He was still receiving incredulous looks from the other novices present. Either because of his courier bag or his semblance to Ezio. He guessed it was a little of both.

"...and that is about it. Remember, nothing is true, everything is permitted." Solemnly the novices repeated the sacred Creed. "The informants will be leading you to your rooms. Training will start tomorrow. Rest and make ready brothers and sisters. We start at dawn."  
>Slowly, four by four, the novices were ushered out by the informants to their respective rooms. Desmond sighed. Thinking of the shitty training and chores (which he had to go through before on the farm) ahead, he wondered how long it would be before he actually went mad.<br>It was going to be a long night.

**Ezio's POV:**  
>Ezio watched the group of novices he had gathered from the viewing balcony above the main hall. Ezio likened them a bunch of baby chicks chirping for food, waiting to be nurtured into eagles. All but one. Desi. Ezio chuckled inwardly. Even in proper clothing and his new friend still stuck out like a sore thumb. A prowling eagle amongst the hatchlings. Yes, Ezio considered Desi as a friend. He didn't know why but he felt a certain connection to Desi. What exactly he wasn't sure.<p>

"I'd like to enquire about one of our new recruits." Machiavelli's voice brought him out of his musings as he approached to join him on the viewing balcony above the main hall.  
>" Which one?"<br>" The one that looks exactly like you. The one with the weird contraption slung across his back." Machiavelli replied leaning casually on the stone railing.  
>" Desi? What about him?" Ezio asked, feigning ignorance.<br>" If I didn't know you were here watching the novices I would have thought that our Mentore was dressing as a novice for a joke! He looks so much like you! You two are almost identical!"  
>Ezio let out a small laugh."Anything else you noticed?" he prompted.<br>" Yes... The way he moves. He carries himself like an experienced assassin."  
>"Indeed brother. He had taken down 4 archers singlehandedly in a matter of seconds when I met him."<br>" So you are telling me that I sent a well trained fighter to be a novice and learn all the basics again when the brotherhood could make better use of him?" Machiavelli was not pleased. It showed in his voice.  
>"Patience brother. Desi is a man full of secrets. We can't afford to send him on important missions without knowing some things about him first. He seems to know quite a bit about us whilst we know nothing about him."<br>Machiavelli did not argue since the logic in Ezio's reply was sound.  
>"I hope you are right Ezio. With the current situation with the Borgia, we need all the help we can get. Anyway, I have some things I have to attend to. Good day Ezio."<p>

Turning back to look at Desi's retreating form, Ezio smiled.  
>Desi was a puzzle to Ezio. Unfortunately for him, Ezio LOVED puzzles.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4: Mirror Image?

**Author's Note:** Yo! Here's another chapter! Been having a bit of a writer's block for this story lately, so if any of you have any ideas pls review and tell me. :) So yeah, hope y'all like this chapter. Not very experienced in writing fight scenes so mi dispiace for any mistakes. Now, on with the story! :))

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><p><strong>AC- Written in Blood<strong>  
><strong>Chapter 4: Mirror Image?<strong>

**Lucy's POV: **  
>Lucy Stillman was a beautiful women. To say otherwise would be a lie. However to the women in question at the moment, she looked and felt nothing like beautiful. Her sky blue hues were bloodshot and watery from both exhaustion and crying too much. Her blond hair once like spun gold was now a tousled disarray.<br>Looking over at Rebecca, she looked just about the same as Lucy did. It has been only 2 hours since Desmond had disappeared in a flash of gold light when the Animus started glitching, the Assassin HQ had given them 7 days to locate Desmond or they would reassign their team to another assignment. While Desmond was important, locating a Piece of Eden and defeating the Templars came first. Rebecca had a hunch that Desmond was trapped in the animus and was currently working on scanning the system searching for him. But still, it was just a hunch.  
>Sighing, Lucy stood up. She couldn't lose him. He was too important. He was the one who had saved her from the guilt of losing Clay. He was the one who cracked stupid jokes when she was at her lowest. He was also the one who had taught her how to love again...<br>"Keep trying Rebecca. We must find him." No. She wasn't going to lose someone she loved to that blasted machine. Not again.  
>"Come back soon Desmond." Lucy cried out internally. "Don't leave me."<p>

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><p><strong>Desmond's POV :<strong>  
>There were many pleasant ways to wake up. Being slapped awake by a hyperactive blond was definitely not one of them.<br>"Mmph... I'm awake, stop slapping me Dante!" Desmond growled shoving said blond off his bunk. " What time is it anyway?"  
>" It's almost dawn! Come on! Wake up!"<br>Groaning, Desmond slumped back into sheets. He had barely slept a wink the night before. Without his daily training before bed, his nightmares had come to haunt him again. And once he finally managed to close his eyes he was being slapped awake. Awesome.  
>With a sigh, he sat up, bare feet touching the cool stone ground. Judging from the groans and curses, Dante was already working on waking up his other roommates.<br>Groping around in the dim candlelight, Desmond was surprised to find a new pair of boots beside his sneakers. They came with a note.  
><em>' Wear this. You look ridiculous in those weird shoes of yours. -E '<br>_It didn't take a genius to figure out who had given him those boots. If the familiar Italian scrawl was anything to go by.  
>The big question was why was Ezio helping him? After all, he only just met him yesterday. Nevertheless, Desmond was grateful for the gift. Slipping them on, he stood and stretched and as he straitened as a myriad of bones down his back and along his limbs popped and creaked. It felt good to be in motion. And so starts a day of useless training and boring chores. Bring it on.<p>

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><p><strong>Ezio's POV : <strong>  
>Ezio smirked beside himself when he saw Desi walk into the training ground in his brand new pair of boots. He heard somewhere that it wasn't healthy to show favouritism but he couldn't help it. Desi felt like a younger brother to him. Maybe it was the looks he wasn't sure. But still...<br>"Are you even listening to me?" Machiavelli's sharp tone brought him out of his musings.  
>"Mi dispiace, I was distracted. Please continue."<br>" As I was saying, the first batch of apprentices is away on a mission to destroy one of Cesare's weapons caches. Once they return they would be ready to take the leap. So for now we have no one to assist the teachers in training the new recruits. Do you think you can slip a training into your schedule?"  
>" Molto bene. I don't have much to do today anyway." Ezio tried his best to hide his grin, but he was failing terribly. He was looking forward to sparring with Desi. From experience, he learned that when someone was hiding something, the easiest time for them to slip up is in the heat of battle.<br>" Watch out Desi. Your secrets won't remain secrets for much longer. "

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><p><strong>Desmond's POV:<strong>  
>Desmond knew something was off when Ezio entered the training grounds with the biggest shit-eating grin in the world plastered to his face. But still, he focused on his sparring companion. Alfon.. Something. Urgh, Italian names were a pain to remember. The recruit was persistent. He'll give him that much. But still persistence alone was not enough. Figuring that the fight had gone on long enough, Desmond sidestepped out of the way before grabbing his opponent's wrist pinning it to his back. Desmond's own blade was an inch from his throat. Altair would have just pulled his opponent forward and went for the kill but he improvised since he was just sparring with a brother.<br>" Well done Desi. Keep that up and you'll be moving up the ranks in no time!" his teacher praised openly. Seems like he was becoming quite the teacher's pet without meaning to. However, Desmond raised a brow when Machiavelli came over to whisper something in their teacher's ear.  
>" Congratulations our newest recruits. Today, you will have the honour of training with our Mentore, Messer Auditore." the teacher announced.<br>The training ground buzzed with nervous and excited murmurs.  
>"I knew something was off." Desmond muttered under his breath.<br>"How are they faring?" Ezio questioned the teacher.  
>" Oh quite a talented group this one. We have a few outstanding pupils here." The teacher replied, gaze settling on Desmond who shifted uncomfortably.<br>" One at a time then. This way we can pinpoint what needs improvement. Don't worry. I won't be too hard on them." Ezio assured with a smirk.  
>At this the teacher grinned devilishly.<br>Desmond sighed under his breath. Some stuff just never did change. Since Altair's time, the teachers, despite their never-ending patience still loved watching their students get beat up.

"You first." Ezio said, pointing to Dante.  
>" Aren't you going to use a weapon Mentore?" Dante asked nervousness evident in his voice.<p>

Shaking his head, Ezio proceeded to circle his opponent. Shrugging, Dante did the same, deciding that if his mentor said to come at him, he would.  
>Stepping forward, he slammed his sword down at Ezio as hard as he could. Swiftly sidestepping away, Ezio leaned forward, palm slamming against his chest knocking the wind out of Dante. With a quick sweep at the feet, Dante was down. Ezio's 'knifed' fingertips jabbed him at his chest.<br>"Dead. You put too much effort in your swings. It makes you movements sluggish and clumsy. Try improving your arm strength. "  
>Smiling, Ezio held out a hand and helped Dante up.<br>The next few novices were about the same with the exception of a girl that managed to graze the tail-end of Ezio's coat. Overall, it was getting quite boring and monotonous.  
>" Your turn." Ezio smirked as he pointed at Desmond. In truth actually, Desmond was looking forward to sparring with his ancestor, just for fun. However, that didn't mean he would allow Ezio to look down on him like a novice.<br>"I will fight you. But only if you fight with a weapon too." murmurs filled the training ground. Along with several mutters of "Show off."  
>But Desmond could care less. He disliked being a novice. And if he was going to be staying in the past for awhile, he might as well get into a higher rank where it would be easier to manoeuvre around in the brotherhood?<br>"Are you sure brother?" Ezio asked, that infuriating smirk still plastered to his face.  
>Desmond's only response was a nod. Shrugging, Ezio unsheathed his sword.<br>"Let's dance."  
>The two of the circled each other in the training ring, each daring the other to make the first move. Desmond, deciding to get the show on the road, moved first, stepping forward and taking a swing at Ezio. Swerving away, Ezio counterattacked, twisting behind Desmond to aim a blow on his back. The ex-bartender saw it coming a mile away, ducking down to aim a hit at Ezio's unprotected legs.<br>The fight continued on like this. Each counterattacking the other at inhuman speeds only stopping to circle each other again. They were evenly matched.

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><p><strong>Ezio's POV:<strong>  
>"He moves well." Ezio thought to himself as Desi blocked yet another one of his attacks. Most skilled fighters would have started showing their flaws now but Desi was still keeping up just fine.<br>They reached another stalemate. Circling each other, sizing each other up again. Ezio felt slightly out of breath." Maybe I am getting old." he thought bitterly to himself as he observed the Desi who looked like how he must have when he was younger. "He even moves like how I do...Wait a minute. Now that I think about it, his movements are exactly like mine! Even when he leaps for an attack, his arm shifts as if to accommodate the movement of a cape which isn't even there!" Ezio's eyes widened at his realization before narrowing in confusion again. "Then again, how is that possible?"  
>Ezio jerked out of his thoughts just in time to dodge a near fatal blow. He went back into his stance. It seems those disturbing thoughts would have to wait. Might as well enjoy this little battle with Desi. After all, good opponents were getting rare these days.<p>

With that, he lunged at his friend with renewed vigour.

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><p><strong>Review! :D<strong>


	5. Chapter 5: Of Rivals and Discoveries

**Author's Note**: Hi again! Um just to clear things up a bit, 2 hours in present day 2012 is a day in the past. So Desmond has 3 months before Assassin HQ gives up on him and he is stuck permanently in the Renaissance. So yeah, hope ya'll like this new chapter. Review! :)

**Written In Blood**  
><strong>Chapter 5: Of Rivals and Discoveries.<strong>

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><p><strong>Desmond's POV:<strong>  
>Desmond ducked his head down in embarrassment as he continued munching on his lunch with his fellow novices. Because of his performance back there with Ezio in the training ring, they all regarded him as a god of some kind. Well almost all them. He tensed as he felt the scrutinizing glare of one of the more talented novices in the brotherhood, Kato, boring holes through the back of his head. Apparently, he had already unseated Kato as best in less than a day and obviously, said man was not taking it too well. Sighing, Desmond decided to ignore it. Finishing the rest of his meal, he stood to leave the dining hall. Perhaps head back to his room to get back some lost sleep before training started again at late noon. Then again a bath sounded good too. His hair was all matted and sticky under his hood since he had <em>REFUSED<em> to remove it all morning. (He didn't need the novices to get started with ogling at his semblance to Ezio again.) Yeah, a bath indeed sounded awesome. Looking up, he realized his feet had already lead him to the bath house. Opening the door, he was welcomed with silence. Empty. It was still in good shape too since apparently baths weren't all that common in this current era. Thinking about just how long people could go without a bath made Desmond grimace. Without further ado, Desmond proceeded to fill a tub with warm water, stripping down and sinking contentedly into the comforting embrace of the warm liquid. His tense muscles relaxed visibly in the gentle ripples of the water.  
>Sighing, Desmond closed his eyes. He loved and hated baths at the same time. He loved it since it was an awesome way to relax but hated it since baths gave his mind time to wander. And considering how messed up the animus has made his mind, he wasn't sure he liked what his mind came up with.<br>Desmond cupped some water in his hands and brought them his face rubbing it thoroughly, as the transparent liquid could wash away the problems that seemed to plague every step of his life. Hopefully Lucy could save him from this mess like she did so many times before.  
>Lucy. God he missed her so much. So far, she had been the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life! She was always there, his pillar of support, his life story's heroine.<br>Even when he had been training to get rid of his nightmares late in the night she was there. (Although he doubted she knew that he was aware of her presence.) Standing in the shadows, a comforting companion as he battled through the worst weeks of his life. Quite literally too.  
>"I miss you…Lucy."<p>

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><p><strong>Ezio's POV:<strong>  
>There were many uncomfortable things to do after a hard morning's worth of sparring. Taking a nice warm bath was definitely NOT one of them. Ezio leaned back into the metal tub sighing as the tenseness in his muscles dissipated almost instantly. Ezio closed his eyes, content in the silence of the deserted bath house. Normally he would have bathed in his room but after his all out spar with Desi, climbing four flights of stairs wasn't exactly what he wanted to do. Especially not when a perfectly clean deserted bathhouse was just a few meters away.<br>Creeaak.  
>Ezio lazily cracked open an eye. Seems like this place wasn't as abandoned as he thought after all. At least someone else in the brotherhood had a sense of personal hygiene.<br>Curious as to whom the newcomer was, Ezio stood from his tub and peeked over the wall separated each cubicle. Now speak of the devil. If it wasn't his newest sparring partner.  
>Ezio slipped soundlessly back into the tub as Desi proceeded to undress. While he was curious about the male, he wasn't <em>THAT<em> curious as to invade said male's privacy.  
>Things became silent again. Only the sound of water splashing quietly from time to time. Then he heard it, barely a whisper.<br>" I miss you…Lucy." came Desi's voice. Broken and tired. Almost pitiful.  
>Another weird name. Who was this Lucy he spoke of? His lover?<br>No other sound came from the cubicle beside him. Ezio cautiously looked over the wall only to smirk to himself. It seems that the quiet lull of the warm waters was too much for his new friend. The novice had fallen asleep! Shaking his head, Ezio went back to his own bath only to nearly jump out of his skin when he heard Desi yell. Nearly. (Master Assassins do not simply jump out of their skins after all. Too much training.)  
>Jumping out of his tub, Ezio wrapped hastily wrapped a cloth around his waist and rushed to Desi's cubicle. (There aren't any cubicle doors since it was too costly.)<br>The young man was writhing in his sleep a look of pure anguish on his face.  
>'Was he having a nightmare?' Ezio thought as he watched Desi shiver in the tub despite the warm water. Deciding to end his friend's pain, he reached forward to shake Desi.<br>" Brother!"  
>Ezio froze. That cry if anguish. It sounded so much like him. Too much like him.<br>Desi's eyes snapped open, wide and unfocused. His face probably a reflection of how he looked when he saw his family die. When finally, they settled on Ezio.  
>" E-Ezio. What the... Why...How...What are you doing here." he asked, visibly flustered.<br>"The same reason you are." Ezio replied smartly, covering up any evidence that he was affected by Desi's screams. "That was quite the dream you were having amico mio. Or should I say nightmare. "Are you alright."  
>"Y-yeah. I'm fine." the younger male replied, head bent, hands gripping the sides of the tub, tense. When suddenly his head shot up.<br>"Shit! I'm late!"  
>With that, his blue eyed clone jumped out of the tub and dressed in record time yelling a quick " Sorry for disturbing your bath Maestro." before disappearing through the door leaving said Maestro standing in only a towel staring intently at the closed door.<br>The Florentine look down on the wet floor. It seems that his friend had dropped something in his hurry. Bending down, Ezio picked up the metal contraption.  
>Tick …tick… tick.<p>

Hmm... Interesting.

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><p>DESMOND YOU MORON YOU LEFT YOU FREAKING WRISTWATCH!<p>

As for why he was carrying it I'll explain in a later chapter. Till then, Ciao!


	6. Chapter 6: Those Haunted Blue Eyes

**Author's Note: **So yeah, Ezio gets acquainted with the watch. He has no idea what it is since i don't think many people had clocks around during that time, much less a wristwatch. So yeah, lets assume Ezio doesn't know what a clock is. Having problem in speeding up the story so if y'all have any suggestions please tell me. Thanks so much for the reviews and support. Enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>Written In Blood<strong>  
><strong>Chapter 6: Those Haunted Blue Eyes<strong>

**Desmond's POV:**  
>Despond growled in frustration as he sprinted to the training ground. (It was the one just off the shops on Tiber Island.) How could he be so careless! He should have checked the bathhouse first! One would think that after "living" the lifetimes of two great assassins he would know better. But nooooo. He had to be careless and fall asleep in the tub. Who knows how much Ezio heard? Especially after a nightmare like that.<br>That nightmare. The one that had been plaguing him ever since he set foot in Renaissance Italy.

_-Flashback-_  
><em>Here it was again. The crowd. So many people, squeezing to have a look. Many were yelling, cheering for death. Its the execution.<em>  
><em>The hot Italian sun was bearing down on their backs, but that did not deter the cheering. The Gonfaloniere's booming voice reads out the last lines of the death sentence. No! They are innocent! He had to do something!<em>  
><em>Pushing and shoving people aside, Desmond fought his way to the front of the crowd.<em>  
><em>" with the lack of any evidence, I pronounce you, Darrell Miles, guilty of treason. You and your collaborators are hereby sentenced to DEATH."<em>  
><em>Wait... What the HELL! What was Darry doing here! No!<em>  
><em>Desmond kicked and pushed his way through to the front of the cheering civilians. All yelling for his brother's death. The death of a man they never knew, and never would. It was futile. He knew it. Desmond could only watch helplessly as the lever was released and his brother's body swing and trash around before going limp. But in those last seconds, those haunted blue eyes, so much like his own, flit over to him.<em>  
><em>No. Don't say it!<em>  
><em>"Don't worry Des. You're safe now. "<em>  
><em>No! BROTHER!<em>  
><em>-end flashback-<em>

Desmond stopped running. Crouching down, he cupped his face in his palms. He wouldn't cry. Not when he fought so long to stay strong for Darry. Why were his nightmares so cruel? Couldn't they at least leave his deceased brother alone and let him rest in peace? He couldn't take it much longer. But the big question is what the hell was Darry doing in that nightmare of the execution?

"_Baby is acting up Luce! Their memories are overlapping!"_

That's right. Could it be possible that his own personal nightmares were overlapping with Ezio's just like their memories were?

"Hey you alright?" Desmond looked up. It was Dante.  
>"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired." the time traveller lied smoothly. Dante raised a brow unconvinced.<br>" Yeah, after a spar with Maestro like that I'm sure you are. Let's go for training together." the blond said, shrugging and walking ahead.  
>Desmond smirked as he stood up and followed. If there was one thing he liked about Dante was that he didn't like to pry. He waited for one to open up.<p>

They were jogging past one of the numerous blacksmiths on Tiber Island when a certain jealous novice interrupted their journey.  
>" Well well well, look who we have here? If it isn't Mr Model Student and his failure of a sidekick." sneered a cold hard voice.<br>_Kato._

Desmond and Dante turned around.  
>It seemed the coward wasn't alone. Three other burly novices were beside him, arms crossed in what Desmond supposed were to be a menacing way. But after you have lived Altair's life, these brutes were nothing. They could barely hold a candle against the giants he'd seen.<br>Desmond scowled." What do you want Kato?"He asked growling.  
>"My my. Such aggression. We are only talking are we not? Just a little note <em>novice<em>, fresh meat like you shouldn't keep showing off. You don't want to cross us." Kato replied, green eyes glinting maliciously, a smirk played on his lips.  
>" Oh I'm positively shaking." Desmond shot back dryly. He realized that he should probably not anger these older novices. Even if he COULD wipe the floors with them while asleep. Best not make a scene in public.<br>Dante gripped his arm. He must have thought the same thing.  
>"Hehehe... Erm, training is starting soon so we both best get going." his friend cut in tugging insistently on Desmond's arm.<br>The smirk was gone.  
>"Oh yeah? But <em>we<em> are not done with you yet!" Kato snapped.  
>" Huh? Really? Cause I AM."Desmond snapped back. Roughly shoving past the brutes with surprising ease and sprinting away with Dante. He hated running away but he knew that if that "conversation" continued back there a fight would definitely start. It would NOT look good on the brotherhood. Plus, having enemies within the brotherhood was not healthy. Altair and Abbas was proof of that.<br>The training ground was just ahead. They were late. Dammit, could his day get any worse?

* * *

><p><strong>Ezio's POV:<strong>  
>Ezio's fingers played with the various smooth knobs on the metal contraption in his hands. It did not appear to be a weapon of any kind, so what purpose did it serve? His fingers ran over a strange knob. It couldn't be turn. How about pressed?<br>Ezio nearly jumped out of his seat when what seemed like numerals on the face of the contraption started glowing a strange, unnatural green. What sorcery is this! Pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment and quill from his satchel. The hazel eyed Mentore proceeded to add it to his list of findings.

- Weird clothing and shoes  
>- Weird name (Desimonde? Seriously?)<br>- Impressive skills  
>- Moves like me<br>- Misses Lucy (his lover?)  
>-Sounds and looks like me (even when having a nightmare.)<br>-Weird metal contraption that ticks and glows

The Florentine growled in frustration. None of the findings add up!  
>He was close, so close to pulling out his hair in frustration. The only thing stopping him was the fact that the ladies don't exactly fancy half bald men.<br>Ezio was so deep in thought that he jumped slightly when a familiar figure slid into the seat on the stone bench beside him.  
>" My apologies for my tardiness amico mio. Cesare has been most demanding lately. What can I do for you?"<br>_Leonardo._ That's it! If there anyone who could figure Desi out it had to be him!  
>"It's alright Leonardo. I just need to buy another hidden blade with a bracer. And I also need your help with something."<br>" Ah, I sense a puzzle." his friend smiled, blue eyes twinkling.  
>Ezio revealed the metal contraption in his palm.<br>" Can you help me find out more about this?"  
>Leonardo's eyes widened in excitement and curiosity.<br>"How fascinating! Of course I'll help. I'll get back to you as soon as possible."  
>"Molto bene. But please don't dismantle it Leonardo. It does not belong to me." The artist looked slightly disappointed at this, but the disappointment did not last long and he readily agreed.<br>Ezio smirked. Perfect.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Tried to give a bit more of a look into Desmond's past. Don't think he has a brother so lets just assume he does. Hope y'all like it!

**Review! :D**


	7. Chapter 7: Introducing Project Phoenix

**Author's Note: Y'all might not understand what project phoenix is now but i promise you will in later chapters. Thanks for the many awesome reviews, support and advice! Now, on with the story! Enjoy! :)**

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><p><strong>Written In Blood<strong>  
><strong>Chapter 7: Introducing Project Phoenix<br>**

* * *

><p><strong>Desmond's POV:<strong>  
>The evening wind blew gently through the streets of Roma. The fast moving activity of the city was slowing down to the lazy sway of nightlife. There was a certain peacefulness to it.<br>However, the evening was certainly less than peaceful for two certain novices. One with brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. The other blond with brown eyes.  
>" Damn this sure is tiring." Dante complained as he rubbed oil furiously on a big metal axe.<br>Biggest understatement of the year if there ever was one.  
>" But still at least we didn't have to clean the stables!" he continued, smiling cheerfully. " I heard Michiel the joker from the first batch of novices had to clean the stables of horse poop for a week for sticking a ' Still a Virgin' sign to Messer Machiavelli's back!"<br>Desmond couldn't help but smirk. Dante was _wayy _too optimistic for his own good. The American looked down at what had to be the twentieth sword he was polishing. They were late for the training as expected. It was a different teacher training them this time. Let it be known that Raffele Mernardo was NOT a man to cross. Ever.  
>The man seemed to have made it his personal resolution to make every latecomer's life a living hell. Quite frankly, Desmond didn't think he would ever want to another push up. What he had done today was enough to last him a lifetime. Personally, he hoped there was a special place in hell reserved for the genius who invented corporal punishment. As further punishment for their tardiness, he and Dante were also assigned to polish all the weapons in the brotherhood's personal armoury which mind you had at least a hundred different kinds of weapons. And that's not counting the daggers. Not that Desmond was going to complain. It was either this or cleaning the rooms. Just the thought of how unhygienic the condition the rooms were made Desmond cringe.<br>Sighing, he put the sword back in place and reached for a dull looking mace. Seems like his stay here in the Renaissance wasn't as smooth as he wanted it to be. He wished the others could get him out soon. He knew how the assassin headquarters worked. A missing person was had only a week before they would be declared dead. He wasn't stupid. His father was the leader of the assassins for Pete's sake! It wasn't exactly very hard to hack into his father's computer.( he never told them but he was quite a good hacker too. That was until hacking lost its excitement. No excitement, no Desmond.) If it was the same for his brother, it would be the same for him. Son of the leader or not. Although, Desmond wondered how much time had passed since he had first disappeared.  
>Well, one way to find out. The time traveller dug into his pocket for his wristwatch.<br>Empty.  
>Oh shit.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Lucy's POV:<strong>

_From: Lucy Stillman  
>To: Warren Vidic<br>Date: 17/09/2012  
>4:05pm<em>

_Warren:_  
><em>There was a glitch in the animus. Desmond disappeared when the animus started glitching in a flash of gold like similar to that observed from the Apple. Does this have to do with the 'Project Phoenix' you were talking about? Reply asap.<em>  
><em>-Lucy<em>

Lucy's cursor waved over the send button. Should she tell Vidic? What if he really was behind it? He did promise not to harm Desmond as long as she continued feeding intel to him. But then again, he could have... With a sigh Lucy closed the email. No. She needed to find out more. And fast. If this mess was truly caused by 'Project Phoenix' then there was no stopping Abstergo from killing Desmond in the Renaissance.  
>"Becca, you mind hacking into Abstergo's system? I have a feeling this whole thing has something to do with them."<br>" Alright I'm on it Luce."  
>Lucy massaged her temples. If she couldn't protect him over there, she might as well find a way to warn him of what was coming.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Desmond's POV:<strong>  
>Desmond yelped in pain as he dropped the heavy mace on his foot.<br>Throughout his stay in the renaissance he had only taken the watch out once. And that was at the bathhouse. He must have left it behind in his hurry to get away from his half naked ancestor. He'll bet his new boots that Ezio saw it. If there was one way to describe Ezio, observant would be it.  
>Desmond cursed under his breath as he massaged his sore foot.<br>" You alright? Never seen your eyes grow that wide before." his companion asked, brows raised.  
>" Yeah, just forgot something that's all."<br>" Gosh that sucks. Happens to me al the time. Tell you what, I'll cover your share of weapons. You go get it back first kay?"  
>Desmond could only stare at the floor. He felt bad to just dump this whole lot of weapons to Dante but he needed to get the watch as soon as possible...<br>"Okay... Don't worry. I'll come back as soon as I get it back. Oh... And thanks Dante."  
>With that, Desmond sprinted off. Climbing up the familiar stone steps that lead to Ezio's room, Desmond seriously hoped that Ezio was alone tonight. And not busy with certain...<em>business<em>.

* * *

><p><strong>Ezio's POV:<strong>  
>Hidden blades as useful as they were, were a pain in the neck to clean. So many small parts that had to fit just right.<br>Oi. What a bother.  
>There came a knock on the door. The Florentine raised a brow. Now who would be looking for him so late in the night? Some pretty, lonely lady looking for a companion perhaps? (One could always hope.) Setting down the thin blade and cloth, Ezio walked briskly to the door and opened it. Outside stood Desi looking slightly out of breath. Not the babe he was expecting but an interesting guest nonetheless. He<em> was<em> beginning to wonder when he would realize he had lost his metal contraption.  
>Smirking, he leaned against the doorframe. " How can I be of service Desi?"<br>" I'm not...disturbing anything am I?"  
>Boy could his ears turn red! Ezio couldn't help but chuckle.<br>" Not tonight, no."

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><p><strong>DUNDUNDUNDUN!<strong>

**And so enters our story's true villains stage right...Abstergo. **

**They just can't leave Desmond alone now can they?**

**Review :D**


	8. Chapter 8: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! Sorry for the hiatus, have been reeaaally busy lately. Anyway, hope u guys like this new chapter . Review if u have any suggestions about anything kay? Now, on with the story! :)**

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><p><strong>Written in Blood<strong>**  
>Chapter 8- Wolf in Sheep's Clothing<br>**  
><strong>Desmond's POV:<strong>

" Not tonight no."  
>Well that's a relief. But that didn't stop Desmond's mind from thinking about just <em>what<em> could have been happening if the answer happened to be a yes. He could FEEL his ears go red. No. Focus Desmond, focus.  
>" I think you have something that belongs to me."<br>Ezio raised a brow at him then smirked.  
>"Hmm I don't think I know what you are talking about. Perhaps you could enlighten me?" Ezio asked, feigning ignorance.<br>Never had Desmond want to punch that infuriating smirk clean off his ancestor's face more. He could feel his inner Altair growling in annoyance.  
>" Youhavemywristwatch."<br>" Your what?"  
>"My wristwatch."<br>" Oh that." Ezio's smirk grew worryingly wider." Well, I will return it to you, but only if you answer my question. Truthfully."  
>Damn. He was cornered. He knew roughly what would be the genre of Ezio's questions, all of which he could not answer without one or two lies. Dammit. Well, here goes nothing! Screwing his face into as emotionless a mask he could manage, Desmond looked Ezio in the eyes.<br>"Fine. What do you want to know?"  
>Ezio was positively GLOWING in delight.<br>"When you first arrived, I saw you appear in a burst of gold light. What _was_ that?" Of course that would be the first question. Truthfully Desmond didn't even know what had happened himself!  
>Desmond cracked his brain to think of an answer but he found none. There was only one sensible answer to that question. The truth. Which wasn't exactly the truth since he didn't know what the hell had occured as either.<br>" Well, you see..." he began.

**BANG!**

The loud sound pierced through the silence of the night. Both assassins turned towards the direction, postures tensing as they prepared for a possible attack. But none came. Instead, they heard the sounds of hurried footsteps up the stairs.  
>A novice Desmond recognized as Micheatto came dashing up the stairs towards them.<br>" Mentore! Mentore! Messer Machiavelli requires your presence in the main hall immediately!" the man reported between high gulps of air. Ezio frowned and nodded, moving swiftly back into his room. The Mentor dressed hurriedly before briskly walking towards the main hall wordlessly.  
>Desmond followed closely behind. However, the American could feel a sense of dread fill his body.<br>He recognized that sound. It was the sound of a gun firing. And from what he knew, no one else in the Renaissance had gun. Except for Ezio and him. Had someone found the gun he had safely hidden in the floorboards of his room?

A ghastly sight greeted them when they arrived. A young man in Assassin robes lay spread eagle in the middle of the room in a pool of red. The blood was still spreading, inching its way across the floors, infecting it like a red disease. The dead assassin stared glassy-eyed at the ceiling, the look of shock still evident on his features. The solitary hole in his chest was more than enough evidence for Desmond. It was definitely a gun. The only question is whose? Desmond felt bile rise into his throat as he as the rusty odour of blood attacked his nose. He looked away, bringing his attention to the wall in the front of the room.

_The __real__ TRUTH shall be written in the blood of the assassins.__  
>May the Father of Understanding guide us.<em>_  
><em>it proclaimed.

Desmond felt the hair on the back of his neck stand as he read the words painted on the stone wall with blood. There was a templar in their midst. How else could someone be killed in their hideout? And a proper assassin at that. Ezio walked grimly towards the corpse, kneeling beside him.  
>" You have earned your rest brother, <em>Requiescat in Pace<em>." Ezio's baritone voice echoed through the hall as he gently shut the man's eyes.  
>All the other assassins in the hall bowed their heads in mourning of the passing of a brother. The silence was deafening. There was no sobbing or shouting. Just a quiet, solemn atmosphere of sadness and anger. Such was the passing of an assassin. Death was something they all carried on their blades. It was also something to be expected and prepared for at every turn, regardless the age. As Assassins, death was both their friend and their enemy.<p>

Standing, Ezio turned and faced the brotherhood. Hood covering his eyes, hiding them from the world. No one saw it. The pain and anger in his supposedly calm expression. No one but Desmond. He had been Ezio before after all. He recognized the stiff set of the jaw. The slight twitching of his left hand. He knew how the Florentine felt.

Ezio, being the protective, stubborn idiot he was felt responsible for the death of that assassin. Just like the death of his family and the recent death of Mario. This just added salt to the open wound.  
>Idiot.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Warren Vidic's POV:<strong>

Vidic smirked at his screen as he read the message.

_The deed is done. They will start to mistrust one another. Ezio Auditore will soon cease to exist and the Assassins would be a thing of history.__  
><em>  
>Vidic smirked. Project Phoenix was a success! The Templars would no doubt win this longstanding war. However it soon left when he saw that there was more to message.<p>

_Although I regret to report that there a certain...complication. I'm sure you remember Subject 17, Desmond Miles?  
>He is here. What are my orders?<br>_  
>Vidic frowned. How in the world did Subject 17 get there? This was a completely separate from the Animus project! Could the assassins have already found out about this project and were planning on stopping them? Then it dawned upon him. The copy of Abstergo's memory core that Lucy had stolen during her escape. It was the same one he using as the basis for Project Phoenix. It made sense that the Assassins would input the core into their animus. If 17 was still using the Assassin's animus, he too must have been transported to the past, along with their Templar agent. If that were true, it means that he had no idea how he got into the Renaissance and no hint whatsoever about the presence of the Templar agent.<br>No matter, he trusted their Agent's skill. 17 would be easily dealt with.

_Kill them both._

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>

**Project Phoenix- A plan formed by Abstergo to utilize the power of both the Apple and the Animus to transport their agents into the past to kill key historical figures that aided in the building of the Assassin Brotherhood. In other words, exterminating the Assassins once and for all. Ezio happened to be their first target. **

**Lets just say Desmond happened to be in the right memory at the right time.**

**Till next time!**

**- StrawberryCerealKiller**


	9. Chapter 9: Dummies

**Author's Note: Hey I'm back! :) Sorry for yet another hiatus! But just to let y'all know, I've roughly planned out the entire story and I think you people are gonna love it. Have re-read the earlier chapters and am not happy with the first few. M gonna redo them once this story is complete. Hope y'all like this chapter as much as the others and thank you so much for the kind reviews, follows and faves. If you have any suggestions feel free to PM me or review. Love y'all!**

**Now, ON WITH THE STORY! :D**

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><p><strong>Written in Blood<strong>  
><strong>Chapter 9: Dummies<strong>

**Desmond's POV:**  
>Desmond stared at the plastic card, hand gripping it so tightly its edges crinkled at the force. His arm shook as the rage coursed through his veins.<br>"Abstergo Industries" it proudly proclaimed on the front. On the flipside written neatly in English was one simple sentence: Thanks, Seventeen.

just above the 'Finnick Rathmore' that was printed neatly in the middle, bright red.  
>He should have known. Any mess and misfortune that ever happened to him always somehow led back to the Templar organization. Crushing the card in a vain attempt to quell his seething, Desmond shifted the floorboard back to its original position.<br>The gun was gone.  
>He had returned to the armoury after leaving the main hall. Dante however was nowhere to be found. The American simply assumed the curious blond went to investigate the commotion like everybody else. He arrived a few minutes later of course but said nothing about the incident instead choosing to continue their punishment in stony silence. Not that the ex bartender was complaining. The silence gave him time to think. Who could have done it? More importantly, was it his gun that was the cause of that assassin's death?<br>As soon as the punishment was over, Desmond dashed off towards his room.  
>Which led back to the present. The gun was gone, in its place an Abstergo business card. And a name.<br>Finnick.  
>There was an agent in the Renaissance. One that was already amongst the brotherhood. The big question was, what for?<p>

**Ezio's POV:**  
>"Yet another brother dies in this blood feud. Will such violence ever end? Or will all the sacrifices be in vain?" Ezio Auditore mused as he stalked through the corridors within Isola Tiberina.<br>The anger. The bitterness. The pain in his chest. And of course who could forget, the cruel guilt that came with failure. It happened so often nowadays he was actually getting used to it. He had failed so many people in his life.  
>He had failed his father. He should have been faster.<br>He had failed his brothers. It should have been him at the gallows.  
>He had failed his mother. She shouldn't have had to go through all the sorrow.<br>He had failed Claudia. He was supposed to protect her.  
>He had failed Mario. He should have been the one with the bullet in his head.<br>And now he had failed that fallen assassin. Micheatto. Barely a week into becoming a full assassin before having his life ended so suddenly.  
>Guilt. It was the bitterest poison life could possibly offer. Even death provided rest. Guilt would never be so merciful.<br>The anger. It was always there now. Seething, boiling, just below the surface of his confident facade. The cool calculating expression of someone in control. He had to keep his mask up. He was the leader after all. He had to be in control... Even if he was not. He had to make others feel that it was going to be okay. Such was the job of a leader of course.  
>Sighing, the Mentore ran a hand through his hair. He pulled his hood up, sinking into the comforting shadow of anonymity. He smirked mirthlessly at his surroundings. He had somehow arrived in the training courtyard. It was strewn with straw dummies. He smirked to himself. It seemed that while his mind knew not how to release his pent up rage and aggression, his feet did. Unsheathing his sword with a sharp rasp, the Master Assassin moved, letting out his anger with each blow to the faceless dummy, slicing through one after another with more strength than needed. Well his mother did say that he needed an outlet. For now, this seemed to be the only viable option.<p>

**Desmond's POV:**  
>He couldn't sleep. Again. Although for once, nightmares was not the cause. Not that he liked the replacement any better.<br>Guilt.  
>He was the cause of that assassin's death. The death of someone he didn't even know. In a way, he had compromised the brotherhood. Dammit. He tossed and turned in the bunk, frustrated.<br>Growling in annoyance, he sat up. It was at most two hours to dawn. He might as well give up his courageous endeavour to enter dreamland and actually do something productive.  
>Pulling on his boots and weapons, the animus subject left the room, closing the door gently so as not to wake the rooms three other occupants whom were sleeping soundly. Lucky bastards.<br>He strolled through the empty hallways, the cool night air pleasant on his warm skin. Many were asleep, except a few assassins whom were on guard duty. They eyed him curiously as he passed but did not move to stop him.  
>Walking briskly towards the courtyard, he was surprised when he heard the dull thud of metal slicing through straw. Someone was up training already? That's a first.<br>He turned the corner and froze, his instincts already telling him to turn and run. Run away from danger.  
>It was Ezio. Or, at least the side of Ezio he did not exactly want to meet.<br>He watched from the sidelines as the master assassin butchered yet another straw dummy. It flopped to the floor, joining its MANY fallen comrades.  
>The Italian was panting. Sweat was dripping from his face and onto the stone floor looking worse for wear. Yet, that did not seem to quell the unadulterated rage that blazed behind the assassin's gaze. For a moment, Desmond was convinced that it was not Ezio but Altair that stood before him. The ferocity of the attacks was just so unlike the Florentine it scared him. He knew about this side of his ancestor but that did not mean he couldn't be scared shitless by it. (Not that he would ever admit it.)<br>This was the side of Ezio that no one knew. This was the side of Ezio that was broken beyond repair. This was the side of Ezio that even Ezio himself feared. And obviously the death of that assassin today did wonders to the poor man's soul.  
>He broke out of his musing only to realize that the sounds of training had stopped and the burning hazel gaze had shifted from the dummies to him.<br>"Desi?" his ancestor ask, friendly, confident mask slipping back on in an instant.

"Idiot. You knew I saw everything. Why even bother to hide?" Desmond admonished his ancestor mentally as he stepped out of the shadows of the pillars. He felt guilty. Ezio should not be blaming himself for that assassin's death. If anyone was to be feeling guilty, it was him. No, this could not go on further. A leader with a weakened mind would lead to a weakened order. And he was not going to let this brotherhood go down because his mistake made Ezio go nuts. Two screwed up minds in the bloodline is enough thanks.  
>" What's the use of attacking dummies? They are easy targets, they don't hit back. If you want to really vent then spar with me." he said slowly making his way towards the white hooded figure. Desmond seriously hoped he wasn't going to regret this. A livid Ezio could be just as deadly as Altair ever was. He would have to tread carefully. But first he would have to get rid of that mask. In other words, piss him off. "Shouldn't be too hard." he thought to himself grimly.<br>"I don't think that's such a good idea Desi. I don't want to-"  
>Desmond cut him off. The rasp of metal was Ezio's only warning before Desmond's sword came down on his, hard. The Mentore pushed him off jerking out of the way hurriedly to dodge yet another blow, shocked at the ferocity and speed of the attacks.<br>Desmond made use of his hesitance. Landing blow after blow, pushing the Italian backwards.  
>"Come now Mentore, surely the display I saw earlier was not all an act now was it? Or is the old man tired already?" a cruel jab he knew. But he needed Ezio to go all out.<br>The Florentine's mask slipped.  
>He smirked as Ezio's sword crashed against his. His arm shook at the strength behind the blow.<br>"Perhaps this might be good for the both of us." Desmond mused as he deftly dodged a deadly kiss of Ezio's blade barely parrying the next attack.

**Ezio's POV:**  
>He didn't know why Desi was doing this. He had to admit, he was hesitant to attack him at first. Afraid that he would harm his new friend if he let go of his control. And also, afraid to show him what he truly was. But as if in a silent answer, the not-really-novice attacked him. His already weary arms shook visibly at the hard blow. The message was clear.<p>

"I can handle it. Just let go."

He barely parried the next and hesitated on the third. He caught a glimpse of the brilliant blue eyes beneath the grey hood. Shining like twin jewels. Challenging.  
>" Come now Mentore, surely the display I saw earlier was not all an act now was it? Or is the old man tired already?"<br>He bristled at the jab. He was NOT old! He could feel his control slip. The jab as childish as it was had relit his fury. He slammed down hard on Desi's sword, nearly knocking it out of his hand. His opponent smirked. Was that...guilt in his eyes? What the hell was he even guilty about?!  
>They fought.<br>The stars above were fading slowly as the first streaks of sunlight raced across the sky. But still they fought.  
>Desi was right. A dummy that strikes back was a better punching bag.<br>Desi the Dummy.  
>Ezio laughed at his own inside joke as he blocked Desi's jab, earning a curious gaze from his friend. Actually, the Florentine felt much better. Better than he had been in months.<br>Which meant it was time to face the problem at hand.  
>"Desi," he asked between blows. "the wound that killed the assassin. Do you know anything about it?"<br>The younger male faltered, blue eyes widening in surprise. Pausing for a little too long and Ezio's swipe managed to hit him, slicing across his left arm.  
>Desi let out a yelp of surprise, leaping backwards. He gripped the injured arm gingerly. Red was already soaking through the grey sleeve, dripping onto the straw strewn floor.<br>Ezio dropped his sword immediately, moving over to inspect the wound, mentally berating himself. He should have waited till later to ask. Silently, he led the wounded male to the storage room, pulling out the medical supplies. After wiping away an obscene amount of blood, the wound was thankfully not as serious as it looked. It didn't even need stitches.  
>" Y-you know?" the blue eyed male finally managed to gasp out.<p>

I…Know? Know about what? Confused yet curious Ezio played along, choosing to remain silent. It worked.  
>" I...the gun...it…it was mine, but someone stole it. I should have hidden it better. I'm sorry! I should have known something from the-" the younger male babbled on, flustered before cutting himself off mid-sentence.<br>" From the?" Ezio prompted totally curious now.  
>He watched as the male looked away, collecting himself. He knew he was busted. They were silent for a few minutes as Ezio meticulously bandaged the wound. The lookalike glanced back at him with a serious expression that did not suit his young face.<br>" Ezio," he started, voice low." I cannot tell you everything, not yet at least. But I can tell you that whoever killed that assassin is a of great danger, possibly even greater than Cesare himself. And he will not stop until he has accomplished whatever he was sent here to do. He has knowledge and weapons than none of you have heard of, much less used."  
>"But you have?"<br>A pause.  
>"Yes. And I will stop him. Somehow..."he pitied the man. He looked just as lost as any of them.<br>" I am incapable of stopping him?"  
>" Yes...I...I need you to trust me on this Ezio. Leave him to me. Please."<br>A long pause.  
>" Va bene, I trust you."<p>

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><p><strong>Too fast? Too slow? Don't know? <strong>

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